


my days are all yours

by dearkths



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Swearing, Pining, Whipped Choi Yeonjun, a few timeskips, beomjun - Freeform, idk how to tag, like rly rly light angst bc im sensitive, mention of their parents - Freeform, spreading the beomgyu pretty agenda, the whole gang are friends, yeongyu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearkths/pseuds/dearkths
Summary: Beomgyu is a little too pretty and Yeonjun is just a little bit in love.Or, Yeonjun meets Beomgyu before they can tell the difference between dawn and dusk, and their friends spend years watching Yeonjun fall a little harder each time Beomgyu shines brighter than the sun.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	1. the look in your eyes

Yeonjun thinks the title of 'first place' was made for him to wear above his head. 

He thinks this as he steps over the finish line, gravel crunching underneath his sneakers as he steadily comes to a stop. He thinks this as he leans over to catch his breath, hands on both knees as his classmates run up with a series of 'woahs' and 'wows'. There's shouting all around, congratulatory praises erupting from where people had been watching on the sidelines of the track. A whistle is blown, and when Yeonjun hears the referee shout, "And the winner is Choi Yeonjun of class 1B!" he feels his chest swell with pride.

It was his first time participating in track day, a tradition that their school held every autumn and spring where grades one to eight would sign up to compete in their respective age groups. For the past two years all he'd been allowed to do was speculate, too young to compete yet too eager to sit out the day in the confines of his classroom. So finally, _finally_ , after entering the first grade, Yeonjun promised himself that he'd take first place at least once. He would sign up and he would aim for the top. 

So now, standing on the podium to receive his third medal brandished with the large number one, seven year old Yeonjun knew exactly what he wanted. Lungs full and chin held high as he waved to his parents smiling brightly in the crowd, he was going to keep this blooming feeling of triumph for as long as he could. 

. . . 

Pretty boy walks in exactly a month after Yeonjun's epiphany.

With a slightly smaller frame than the rest and eyes big enough to engulf solar systems, the teacher introduces him and Yeonjun is only half paying attention when she goes on to explain that the new student was a year younger than everyone else, that he'd skipped the grade before them. He doesn't catch the name as he scoots forward on the edge of his seat, too distracted with trying to get a closer look.

He had to be at least half a head shorter than Yeonjun, big eyes blinking at his new classmates and offering a smile at all the introductions thrown his way. They were just kids, but Yeonjun found that the nickname pretty boy suited him quite well. His parents always called him pretty, and whenever his relatives visited they cooed Yeonjun and said he was soft, too, so being pretty must be a good thing.

Now, after seeing the new classmate, Yeonjun thinks pretty can mean a lot of different things.

The boy was soft looking like himself, but he also looked really warm, like the feeling he got when his mom baked cookies or when he'd watch the snow fall with a cup of hot chocolate. Was that a thing? Yeonjun didn't know, but there weren't a lot of words his seven year old vocabulary had to describe people so he settled with pretty, soft and really, _really_ warm. 

As his eyes sweep across the different faces, pretty boy pauses and breaks out into a grin, teeth and all, when his gaze lands on Yeonjun. Next thing he knows, pretty boy is waving at him. At _him_.

Yeonjun must spend a good few seconds looking really lame and just staring back, eyes wide, before he returned the smile and raised his own hand to wave, too. He's almost a hundred percent sure he's never seen the boy in his life, yet something in him felt compelled to wave back. 

It isn't until later during lunch that Yeonjun finds out his name is Choi Beomgyu. 

Yeonjun had all but sat down with his food, fully ready to eat his pudding that he'd patiently been waiting all day to eat, when pretty boy sat in front of him. 

He was quieter than Yeonjun expected, a little hesitant with the way he kept glancing back and forth between Yeonjun and his own food, cheeks puffed out as if he had something he really wanted to say. They'd been sitting in silence for a few minutes already, and Yeonjun debated introducing himself first when a voice squeaked out, "I saw you. On track day, I mean. Y-you won the jump and ran faster than everyone else. It was really cool."

The words all came out at once, so rushed that Yeonjun almost didn't catch what he was trying to say. "Really? You remember?” His pudding momentarily forgotten, Yeonjun leans forward. “You remember me?" 

Pretty boy's eyes lit up immediately, almost as if they were animated. "Are you kidding? Of course I do! You were like, whoosh! You even won when the really tall and scary guy was running!" 

He goes on to talk about the events of track day, reciting again and again how cool he thought Yeonjun looked when he crossed the finish line and when he was receiving his medals. Yeonjun feels his cheeks burn, but he found himself smiling, too. Watching the new boy rant about his achievements made Yeonjun's pride surge, a different kind of warmth blooming than when the referee pronounced him as the winner. 

Engrossed with the way light reflected off of pretty boy's features as he talked, Yeonjun doesn't realize he hasn't said anything until a hand is being stuck out in front of him. Yeonjun is rendered speechless for the third time that day. 

"You were really awesome. I was kinda scared of changing my class but, uhm," a pause, pretty boy's other hand coming up to scratch his neck. "I found out you were in this class, too, so I had to tell you. That I think you're super cool." 

He's said that maybe around five times already, but Yeonjun's smile only grows more each time. "Super, duper cool?"

Pretty boy nods back enthusiastically. "Super, duper cool."

"I'm Yeonjun," he says, reaching out to shake the hand offered to him. 

And if possible, pretty boy's smile only grew wider, dimples flashing. "I know." 

Letting their hands fall, he twists a strand of hair between his fingers before saying, "Beomgyu. I’m Choi Beomgyu."

. . . 

Beomgyu turns out to be, in fact, really smart. 

Of course it was expected in order to skip a grade, but Yeonjun doesn't realize this until the next spelling test that he _always_ aced comes around and the bright red pen is spelling out 20/20 at the top of both their papers. The first person Beomgyu shows his test to is Yeonjun, a bright smile already adorning his face with a loud, "Hyung, we're matching!" 

Beomgyu also turns out to be a really fast learner, and equally as fast of a runner. 

They're learning the basics of soccer in p.e, a sport that Yeonjun had picked up out of interest a year ago and had since then mastered to the best of his seven year old ability. He demonstrated a few moves and offered to go around to each student and help during the exercise, but Beomgyu didn't seem to need it despite claiming it was only his first time playing.

Even so, when he kicks the ball over to Yeonjun and waves at him to be his scoring partner, Yeonjun can't find it in himself to refuse. 

The next day he's determined to march up to Beomgyu and declare war, because there can only be one 'first place' and Yeonjun was certainly not about to take second. He was also confused, confused because Beomgyu seemed to be oblivious to his efforts and instead genuinely interested in Yeonjun as a whole. 

At the end of the day as he’s stepping out the doors, a flurry of kids rushes past him, his eyes scanning to find a pair of large eyes in the crowd. He’s spinning in circles before a figure runs up from behind, clapping him on the back in a half hug, a familiar laughter ringing in Yeonjun’s ears.

“Let’s go home together,” Beomgyu says, pulling Yeonjun out of the school yard.

Yeonjun had barely seconds to comprehend that his target had gone to _him_ as he was being led down the street, dazed because Beomgyu always seemed to catch him off guard.

“How do you know we go the same way?” Yeonjun liked to think he knows his neighbors well, but apparently not well enough. 

Beomgyu flashed another smile. “I saw you yesterday. I moved a month ago, so I didn’t know you were that close.” 

They’re walking almost side by side, Beomgyu humming and still tugging him along. The weather was as nice as November weather could get, and the peaceful atmosphere almost makes Yeonjun forget the main reason he was looking for Beomgyu in the first place. 

“Why do you like me so much?” 

The question tumbles out before Yeonjun can think much of it. For a second, he’s scared that he said something wrong. Beomgyu halts in his tracks and turns to face him with a puzzled look. In a brief moment of panic, Yeonjun debates just getting straight to the point and letting him know that he was the boss. The bossman. The leader of the pack. The top dog. 

Beomgyu doesn’t let him, though, cutting him off with a smile different from the ones he had seen thus far. The sun was out, but Yeonjun thinks it’s unfair how even under such a bright light, Beomgyu still looks brighter. 

“You’re my role model,” he says, beginning to walk again. “I don’t really know what that means, but my parents said it can be someone that I think is a hero. Like, someone I want to be.” 

Yeonjun trailed behind this time, listening and subconsciously trying to step in the footprints that Beomgyu made as he walked. His feet were bigger, so it always covered up the tracks.

So concentrated on the footprints, Yeonjun almost bumps into Beomgyu when he whirls around, still smiling at him. 

“You’re my hero, so I told my parents you’re my role model. I want to be like that, a super cool person that everyone likes!” 

Yeonjun could only stare. Stare at the energetic boy that had tied with him in almost everything and anything, even though they’d only known each other for two days. Stare at the boy that reminded Yeonjun of the soft daisy petals in his yard, or of the sun casting an illuminating glow just behind his head. Stare at the boy who followed him around like a lost puppy because he thought Yeonjun was someone he wanted to become. 

Beomgyu’s waving a hand in front of his face now, still confused. “Why’d you ask?”

And seven year old Yeonjun kind of wants to cry, but because his dad always tells him that heroes never cry in front of their fans, he draws in a big dramatic breath and throws an arm around Beomgyu, pulling a smile to his face as they walk. 

“No reason. Come on, I’ll ask my mom for some pudding ‘n we can share.” 

At that, Beomgyu looks ecstatic, and soon they’re racing each other down the street, laughter high in the air with the promise of pudding waiting. 

Yeonjun thinks that if the title of ‘first place’ was meant to be shared, this was the person he was meant to share it with. 

He thinks this as his mom opens the door and Beomgyu is immediately bowing, introducing himself while she reassures him that there’s no need and invites him inside. He thinks this as Beomgyu is sitting at their dining room table, cheeks full with custard pudding and happiness dancing in his eyes. And when his mom invites him over the following weekend so they can go blueberry picking, Beomgyu’s gleeful expression was enough to cast away any doubts that Yeonjun still harbored. 

Just like this, Yeonjun thinks that maybe being second place to the sun wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter is kind of short but a few things!!
> 
> \- this is my first work that i'm putting out for people to read so forgive me for any awkward settings or mistakes  
> \- i write for fun & usually my writing isn't beta read/checked so there might be some grammatical/spelling errors  
> \- i'll try to update when i can (no promises on consistency) i go thru writer's block a lot so pls b patient with me <3  
> \- i don't rly have a plan/outline for where this is going it's 100% purely self indulgent bc i miss beomjun  
> \- that being said idk how many chapters this is gnna be so the plot might also be messy frfr im sorry y'all LMAO
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy reading! i have a twt but maybe i'll drop it later on hajdsfj leave feedback since i like to hear wht ppl think & it helps to see how much ppl are liking the story :D


	2. this ordinary life with you

"You said this was gonna be easy."

"And it is! You're just being difficult."

"No, I'm being honest."

"Well, stop it. Be glad you get to see a genius at work."

"Okay, genius, what do I say when my mom asks why we—more like _you_ — exploded the oven?"

Yeonjun has half the heart to pretend to be offended, hands over his chest as if he was struck. "I'm hurt. Really, really hurt. And I didn't explode anything, don't be dramatic."

They're in the midst of opening all the windows, the fleeting remnants of the hot summer air filtering in despite them complaining about the heat only moments ago. At least, moments ago before Yeonjun had forgotten to set a timer for the banana bread they put in the oven and simultaneously realized that he set it to the wrong temperature. 

After taking the loaf out in a frenzy, they'd spend almost twenty minutes fanning the atmosphere, resorting to propping open the windows for fear that the fire alarm would sound.

"Yeah, didn't explode anything _yet,_ " Beomgyu mocked, shaking a bottle he'd fished out from under the sink before giving the air a few sprays in the kitchen, then repeating the action in the adjacent room.

"Would you have some faith in me? Would I, the best person in the world, the one and only Choi Yeonjun, ever lie to you?"

He receives a pointed look from the other. "If you really want me to answer—" 

Yeonjun cuts him off with a hand over his mouth, gently pushing Beomgyu to the table where they'd left the loaf to cool. "Bread's getting cold, Beom. Can't wait all day,"

"Are we even allowed to eat that?" He eyes the almost mocha coloured coating, sticking a toothpick in for extra measure. 

Yeonjun swats his hand away, brandishing a bread knife he'd retrieved. "I'll cut off the outside since I'm so experienced and nice to you, my loyal little follower."

Beomgyu makes another face at him but says nothing to object, watching as Yeonjun takes extra care in not slicing too much of the bread but enough so that the suspiciously 'burnt-to-a-crisp' parts were separated. Once he finishes, Yeonjun cuts off two loaves, placing one in front of Beomgyu and himself.

"If I get food poisoning—"

"You'll haunt me forever, I know," Yeonjun says, holding a bite of the banana bread on a fork. "I told you to have _faith_ in your favourite hyung." 

"You're, like, my only hyung." Beomgyu is still eyeing it cautiously, not taking the fork.

Yeonjun gives a roll of his eyes, unfazed. "Okay, and still your favourite."

Before he can respond, Yeonjun shoves the piece into his mouth, gauging his reaction. It wasn't their first time baking, but it was their first time doing it on their own without an adult. Yeonjun insisted they do it before school started, seeing as fourth grade was a pretty big deal in his mind, so he would do anything for bragging rights. And while 'successful first attempt at baking banana bread with your best friend of almost three years' wasn't exactly 24 karat gold material, it was enough to convince Beomgyu to do it with him.

He wasn't about to tell the class about the oven fiasco, though.

Yeonjun was, even if he wouldn't say it out loud, a little anxious. He swears that he was usually more attentive, and while this probably wasn't enough to deter Beomgyu from following along with his future schemes, he still can't swallow the lump of worry sitting at the back of his throat.

Beomgyu had trailed closely behind him since day one without a fail, and not once did Yeonjun let him down. Since then, his every achievement has been shared with Beomgyu. Beomgyu, who was always waiting at the end point, always cheering and, without a doubt, smitten with admiration. 

Call him childish, but the words 'you're my hero' still burned at the back of his mind, just as clear as when he heard them the first time. Heroes didn't disappoint their fans, not even while making banana bread.

Except maybe right now. 

However, his worries are unfounded when Beomgyu breaks out into a dimpled grin. "Did you rig my oven? How can it taste so good half-burnt?" 

Yeonjun feels his shoulders relax, tension falling away. Not that he doubted himself, or anything.

"See? What did I tell you," he says, taking a bite of his own loaf after receiving the positive feedback. It did taste good, oddly enough. 

Beomgyu ignores his comment in favor of taking another bite, a smile still present as his cheeks puffed out from chewing. Soft. After a few minutes, he's reaching out to Yeonjun, bread on his fork.

Yeonjun stares, blinking dumbly. "I can feed myself—"

"Just eat it," Beomgyu says, urging him once again. "Don't make me say here comes the choo choo train."

He grumbles lowly but eats it nonetheless, and as he looks up Beomgyu is smiling wider than before. He tends to do that, Yeonjun's noticed. Within weeks of meeting, he discovered that the other boy was easily amused, often laughing at his antics no matter how minuscule or trivial they were. And looking at him now, Yeonjun thinks half of his own motivation stemmed from the satisfaction in knowing the same smile would always be there to greet him. 

He chooses to ignore the stammering rhythm in his chest. "What was that for?"

A content look settles on his features. "I like watching you eat." When Yeonjun shoots him a look, Beomgyu flicks the other in the forehead. "Not in a weird way, you creep. Your cheeks just get all," he pauses to inflate his own cheeks, giggles threatening to spill. "Like a balloon. S'funny."

At that, Yeonjun reaches over the table to pinch the sides of Beomgyu's face. "At least be nice about it, you brat."

Beomgyu stretches out of his reach. "It was a compliment!"

He's bolting out of his seat by the time Yeonjun's gotten up, but seconds too late because he has a grip around the younger almost immediately, tickling him because he knew Beomgyu was the most sensitive person on the planet.

"What kind of compliment was that? I deserve an apology," he says, unrelenting.

"A nice one, it was creative!" Beomgyu manages between fits of laughter, squirming and crouching to free himself. Ultimately to no avail, because Yeonjun was still a year older, taller and stronger.

"Creative would be something like, 'oh Yeonjun, even when you eat, you're dashing as always,' but you basically just called me funny looking!"

They wind up on the ground, Beomgyu almost breathless as he's wriggling on the carpet of his living room. His giggles echo off the walls, filling the atmosphere and Yeonjun's almost positive that the neighbors think someone's being robbed in broad daylight. 

After minutes of what Beomgyu deemed to be torture, he shrieks, "Oka- Okay! I yield! I apologize, oh great one." A hand comes up to grab Yeonjun's wrist, and the other raises in a form of surrender. 

A triumphant beam makes its way onto his face. "That's what I thought." 

He settles beside Beomgyu who was still catching his breath, lying down and stretching his arms above his head. The living room's ceiling light had smaller shards dangling from it so that whenever sunlight swept into the room, it always reflected off the glass and scattered colors across the furniture and walls. Yeonjun's gotten lost counting the refracted rays hundreds of times, something he found himself doing without even realizing.

At the moment, the sun was lower in the sky as the time struck barely six o'clock, the rainbows dancing across the coffee table just a few feet away, across the carpet they laid on and across the family portrait that hung above the fireplace.

Yeonjun had always liked being in this house, because in a way it felt like a second home. The smell of honey and vanilla always welcomed him the moment he walked in, and the warm autumn colors that decorated every corner of each room was a stark contrast to the black and white patterns back at his own place. To Yeonjun, every inch of it told him, 'you're safe here,' so he'd begun to associate it with home as much as his own. 

And when he looks to his side, there's specks of varying colors falling on the face of the person laying next to him.

"Try actually waking up on time tomorrow," Beomgyu says. "You don't know the look Mr. Park gives me every year when _I'm_ the one that has to explain why you're late on the first day.

Yeonjun scoffs. "That's nothing compared to my mom when I open my eyes and the first thing I see is fire coming out of her nose."

"Well, maybe she wouldn't if, you know, you actually woke up."

He pokes Beomgyu's side, letting out a choked laugh when the boy instantly curls in. "Don't push it unless you want a round two." 

Yeonjun receives an exaggerated huff in response. "No, sir, I would never dare."

"That's what I thought," he says, but is distracted when Beomgyu repositions himself and the colors move with him.

Beomgyu notices him staring and stops, but Yeonjun's already lost count of the rays. "Uhm, can I help you?"

Face scrunching, Yeonjun furrows his brows. "Don't move for a second." 

And he listens because he always does, confused and looking like he wants to ask further but doesn't. They lay in silence for a minute or so before Yeonjun says proudly, "Forty-seven." 

Beomgyu still doesn't understand, and he says as much. "Forty-seven what?"

"There's, like, forty-seven little rainbows on your face."

Beomgyu can only blink at the other, speechless for a few seconds before stifling a laugh. "And you say I'm weird."

The corners of Yeonjun's lips turn down. "Give me some credit. That wasn't easy because you kept moving all over."

"Of course, your highness. It's my honor to have you count the light on my face," he says, turning back to face the ceiling.

Yeonjun sticks out his tongue, ever the immature and playful one, before he goes back to admiring the pretty orange and red glow surrounding seemingly everything in the house. There's birds chirping from outside, loud and harmonious which only reminds Yeonjun that the windows are still open. He sits straight now, about to get up and close them when Beomgyu speaks.

"There's thirty-nine on yours, by the way."

Yeonjun looks at him again, and when they make eye contact he can practically see the mirth swirling in Beomgyu's eyes. Neither of them say anything, staring back at the other, almost challenging. As the seconds passed by, the sun dips behind the roof of a building, leaving the room shrouded in navy blue shadows.

Beomgyu stands first. "I win, since I had more rainbows."

Yeonjun clambers to his feet. When did he even count? He was sure he'd only looked away for a second, otherwise his eyes had been on Beomgyu the entire time.

"That's not how it works," he retorts, following behind before Beomgyu breaks out into a run and Yeonjun almost trips as he chases him.

The rest of the evening passes by like this, throwing jokes back and forth until Beomgyu's parents come home with cupcakes in tow. They have a chocolate versus red velvet debate after dinner, and Yeonjun backs down because how could he not while watching Beomgyu talk so enthusiastically about a cupcake flavor? Later when they send Yeonjun home, they spend at least five minutes waving at each other from the car and his front door even if they'll see each other the next morning.

"If you're late tomorrow, I'm not defending you," Beomgyu shouts from the car window, still waving hysterically with both his arms outstretched. 

Yeonjun rolls his eyes, because they both knew that wasn't true. "No promises."

When they've pulled out of the driveway Yeonjun reflects on the prospect of setting an alarm, though he dismisses the idea because he'd just sleep through it anyway. 

Beomgyu couldn't fend off their homeroom teacher forever, but it was still nice that he tried.

. . . 

"You're late," Beomgyu whispers as Yeonjun plops down beside him, flashing a brief smile when Mr. Park glances over and his expression is already downturned.

Yeonjun resists the urge to punch the other in the shoulder. "No, really? Thought I was early."

He avoids meeting the other students' eyes, but even then he could feel them burning a hole through his head. Their giggles weren't exactly the quietest, either. Had they never seen someone walk in late before? No one's perfect, Yeonjun reasoned with himself, so surely it would be too unfair of the world to make him both talented _and_ punctual. Not that he wasn't already planning on it, but he'll remind them who's king later during dodgeball.

Beomgyu drags him out of his thoughts. "Stop staring at the table like that, someone's gonna think you're planning murder."

He lets out a huff. "Maybe they're just scared of my insanely handsome fa—"

Yeonjun receives a nudge to the side, cutting him off.

"Okay, point proven. Wanna do that softer next time, maybe?"

He catches a glimpse of Beomgyu's smug grin before Mr. Park's calling for their attention. And no different from any other day, Yeonjun zones out, the teacher's voice fading away into the background. He's fidgeting with his pencil, occupied with twirling it from one finger to the next as he waited for the typical welcome-back-from-summer speech to pass by. He's almost managed to perfect the skill until the door opens, a tall and lanky boy stepping in.

More like a tall and lanky distraction, because as he comes into view Yeonjun loses his rhythm and drops his pencil. 

He's fully ready to complain to Beomgyu who, like the obedient student he is, was quiet this entire time when Yeonjun notices that his eyes had been averted to whoever had walked in. His own gaze flickers to the newcomer and he resists the urge to let his mouth drop. Mr. Distraction was a student. A very tall, focus-disrupting student with slightly round cheeks. He wore their school uniform, but Yeonjun hadn't seen him until now so he must've been a transfer. Just how many transfers did they get every year? 

Despite being possibly the tallest fourth-grader in the room, the boy held his head low, body and shoulders curled in as if a predator would jump him at any given moment. His eyes darted around, hardly sparing a second while looking at each person. When he began to introduce himself, he was so quiet that Yeonjun couldn't pick up a single word other than his family name 'Choi.'

Yeonjun might've felt threatened if not for the way the new transfer carried himself, timid and cautious as he navigated his way to his seat. As far as common surnames go, he and Beomgyu were the only Choi's in their grade.

Well, until now. 

He doesn't think about this for long until their break. As per the past three years, they're the first ones out the door, sprinting into the school yard with an eagerness only they could manage. This time around, though, Beomgyu tugs on Yeonjun's arm from behind, nearly sending him sprawling across the gravel as they come to a stop mid-run.

After steadying himself, he whips around to face the culprit. "If you were trying to kill me a warning would be nice—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, though, because Beomgyu's not even facing him, fist still clenching his sleeve. 

Yeonjun doesn't understand why until he follows Beomgyu's line of vision and spots the new transfer, Choi Distraction, sitting on the swings with a notebook in hand.

Throughout the earlier lessons he hadn't said a thing, quiet and — at least to Yeonjun — disinteresting. But apparently he was distracting enough to have Beomgyu's undivided attention. Beomgyu, who was clearly unaffected with the way Yeonjun's face almost high fived the pavement. Beomgyu had nearly _murdered_ him. And he wasn't even looking. 

Yeonjun's pride soared, mingling with an unsettling feeling in his chest. "Beom, I could've _died_. Would it hurt you to check up on—" 

"Isn't he kind of weird?" Beomgyu says, still not looking at him. 

Yeonjun is absolutely dumbfounded. "What? The new kid?"

He finally glances over, nodding and smiling like he'd won the lottery. Yeonjun's chest twisted.

"He didn't say anything, like, not even when Mr. Park asked him to." Beomgyu always looked excited talking about the smallest things, and especially now. "It was kind of cool." 

Yeonjun opens his mouth to respond that no, it wasn't that cool, it was just weird, but misses his chance when Beomgyu starts to drag him away. In the exact direction of Mr. Distraction. They were walking towards Mr. Distraction. Beomgyu was making them walk towards Mr. Distraction.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm gonna go say hi."

He was going to do _what_? "What if he's weird? Didn't you just say that?"

"Did you skip the part where I also said he's kind of cool?"

"No," Yeonjun says, and he doesn't realize how defensive he sounds until a few beats had passed. "Just, what if he's more weird than cool?"

He can already hear the eye roll in Beomgyu's response. "So, like you? If that's how he is, we'll be great friends."

That launched a red flag in Yeonjun's mind. "Okay, but I'm different! He's the new guy, and I'm... "

Beomgyu looks back at him then, cocking a brow. "You're what?"

Swallowing, Yeonjun couldn't find the words to answer him.

He was what?

Better? The best? Number one?

Beomgyu's only friend?

Of course not, because Beomgyu had made a name for himself since day one. Being younger than the rest hadn't stopped him from making friends, especially since it was so easy to like him. Yeonjun could brag about how well known he was all he wanted, but he'd be lying if he said Beomgyu wasn't, too.

So the last option was definitely off the table. If not his only friend, what was he?

He was the one that comforted Beomgyu and wiped his tears when he fell off the monkey bars that one time, the one that cleaned the sand off his cuts and brought him back home to clean and treat it. He was the one that slept over during the weekends and got to see Beomgyu in his bear onesie, then laugh at the funny ways his hair would stick up in the morning. He was the one that saw Beomgyu turn seven, eight and nine, blowing out candles and giving him birthday punches every time March came around.

Yeonjun was his _best_ friend.

He knew Beomgyu better than any of the other kids thought they did, because they were best friends.

Yeonjun was different from the new guy, even if he was taller than Yeonjun and had softer looking cheeks. He was different because the new guy hadn't known Beomgyu for as long as he had. Yeonjun was different, because he was Beomgyu's best friend.

Right?

That's not what he says, though. "I'm psychic. And because I'm psychic, I'm betting you that he's gonna be super weird."

"I think that's called being paranoid, Jun." 

Stupid Beomgyu with his stupid pretty smile and stupid big brain using stupidly big words. "Okay, sure, but maybe the reason he didn't say anything is because he's crazy, and any second now he could start talking about God, or something, like those people in the streets that kidnap you."

Beomgyu wasn't listening, dismissing his ranting and continuing forward until they were right in front of Mr. Distraction.

Maybe Yeonjun had imagined it, but it was almost like Mr. Distraction had smiled when he saw them, the corner of his lips turning up slightly. He's staring at Beomgyu first, eyes bigger than they first appeared from across the classroom. When he looks over at Yeonjun, his brows furrow, an eye flinching. 

Yeah, Yeonjun had definitely been imagining it.

Beside him, Beomgyu introduces himself first. "I'm Beomgyu. We have the same last name, and I already decided that we'll be friends. Starting today."

Now he had _not_ mentioned that part to Yeonjun. He turns to question him, but Beomgyu has, once again, chosen to pay attention to Mr. Distraction over him.

He resists the urge to bang his head against the swing pole.

It startles him when Mr. Distraction lets out a laugh, light and genuine, dimples sinking into his face. Not half as poke-able looking as Beomgyu's dimples.

It's even more surprising when he answers, clear as day, unlike earlier. "Do I get to say if I wanna be friends or not?" 

Beomgyu's signature toothy smile returned as he stuck his hand out for a handshake. "No. I told you, I already decided."

"Guess I have no choice." Mr. Distraction reaches out, too, clasping their hands together. For someone so tall his hands were equally as big to match, engulfing Beomgyu's in his and Yeonjun feels like he's two seconds away from losing it. 

He was _Choi Yeonjun_ , and not many people ignored Choi Yeonjun. Especially not Mr. Tall-round-cheeked-big-handed Distraction. 

"Uhm, excuse me," he says, clearing his throat, making sure to drag out the cough.

When Mr. Distraction looks over it's like he's seeing Yeonjun for the first time and just noticing he was there, eyebrows shooting up. And at long last, he had the spotlight.

He throws an arm around Beomgyu's shoulders, sticking out his free arm. "I'm Yeonjun. _Choi_ Yeonjun."

Mr. Distraction stares at him before finally _letting go_ of Beomgyu's hand and shaking his. "Okay, _Choi_ Yeonjun, I'm _Choi_ Soobin."

Letting his hand fall back to his side, Yeonjun mutters something about how their ancestors would spit on anyone that wronged their family name. Beomgyu elbows him before he can say anything else.

"He's not always like that, I swear. You can pretend he's not here."

And _Soobin_ is laughing again, mouth wide open to show one of his teeth missing. It's the kind of smile Yeonjun's aunt would've called cute and pinched his cheeks for, and he hates it because Beomgyu was laughing back at him. They were laughing and Yeonjun was confused and just a little annoyed, but most importantly he was being _ignored_. What kind of day was this?

He's seriously considering knocking his head against the pole when he feels Beomgyu pull on him gently, his expression the picture of pretty innocence.

"I told Mr. Park I'd help him before people go back inside, so I'm leaving first." He pats Yeonjun's back. "Am I the best or what? Paying the punishment of _your_ sleeping butt."

Yeonjun's heart drops to the bottom of his feet. So Beomgyu was going to leave him alone... with Soobin? For the next twenty minutes?

"Wait, Beom—"

Except Beomgyu's already waving at them and jogging off. And now he was, indeed, alone with Soobin.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Yeonjun nearly falls over when he sees Soobin standing.

Okay, he wasn't scared. Yeonjun doesn't _get_ scared. It's just that Soobin was really tall and stood before he could notice. That's all.

Defensive, Yeonjun holds his head a little higher. "Like what?"

Soobin gives him a suspicious look. "Like you want to throw me into space, or something."

"Well, what if I do?"

Yeonjun hadn't meant to say that out loud. 

Soobin doesn't seem to mind, though, grinning from ear to ear. "Kinda sucks for you, because Beomgyu really likes me."

Oh, Yeonjun was going to _destroy_ this boy in dodgeball.

"Still doesn't mean I don't want to throw you into space," he fires back, but Soobin's already started walking away.

"Gotta catch me first, _Choi_ Yeonjun," he says, laughing when the other runs after him.

Yeonjun was always up for a challenge. "I dare you to say that again."

He spends the next ten minutes playing a mean game of cat and mouse, pulling Soobin into a headlock when he finally catches him. When the bell rings and signals the end of their break, they're even racing to the classroom door, a surprised Beomgyu already greeting them there.

"You dare laugh at me?" Yeonjun exclaims when he notices Beomgyu just staring at them, half choking on his laughter.

"No, captain, I would never."

Beomgyu reaches out to flatten the stray hairs going every which way, hands gentle and warm as he brushes through and it takes everything in Yeonjun to not throw _himself_ into space when he does the same for Soobin.

"Did you know Yeonjun's, like, a crazy fast runner?" Soobin says between pauses, trying to regain his breath after dashing around the entire time. Hearing that, Yeonjun feels like his justice has finally been rightfully served.

Beomgyu only laughs, pulling both of them to their seats.

"Yeah, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was supposed to post this sooner & actually wanted to post the next chapter at the same time but it's already been too long since so have this slightly longer chapter for now :]
> 
> sorry for all the cliche student transferees i had to get most of the intros done BUT rest assured taehyun & kai appear next chapter YAYY :D (there's gnna be a couple more time skips until the main events sorry LMFDKF)
> 
> thank you so much for reading this far, leave feedback if u wanna!!<3  
> side note: my chapter titles are inspired by the lyrics of one of my favorite slow songs, 'to you my light' by maktub


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